Pull yourself together sir,
the men can't stomach a scene in a storm.
The ship's heart has been anchored, I fear you can't talk wind through the sails.
We've all seen your compass,
it was posted on the crows nest.
The masts are showing splinters and your throat is caught by hope.

Please don't drink the ocean, depths and distance can't be swallowed by pride.

Have you nothing to say?

The birds miss your voice, first mate has gone deaf.
We need some direction, attention with curly words.

North will stay the same, it's where you left your spark.
But any more holes and you'll drown in the dark.
Put down the monocular, we can't stand to watch anymore.
Address your hell with chorus, row the boys to shore.
Sing us back on southern land, hold posture, withstand.
This nausea is required, withdraw the stone from bone.
There's only room on this rescue boat, for those who were built to float.

As above, so below.

Sink or swim, no difference to crowds who missed the undertow.